Shooting Stars
by SNN
Summary: Derek is depressed about his hopeless love. Or is it really so hopeless? Twoshot. Dasey.
1. Derek

**A/N: **Okay, so this one's random and really has no point. (I seem to have gotten into the habit of writing these drabbles, no?) Derek's just kind of... depressed over Casey and the fact that she's completely blind to his being completely in love with her. You know, the usual.

Enjoy and please review. I love to know what you guys think. :)

R&R-Enjoy-R&R-Enjoy-R&R  
Shannon

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**Shooting Stars**

You know how everyone is always wishing on shooting stars? How they always search the sky at night, just waiting for that once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to "make things better"?

Well, I'm not one of those people.

I count on well thought-out plans and hard work for making things "better." You can't just sit around, waiting for Life to throw you a bone. You have to take it from him, make him recognize that you won't put up with his shit like everyone else does. And you know who I'm talking about. It's those same people who make the wishes. Those people are the ones who get nowhere with their lives, wasting away into oblivion, wondering why nothing turned out the way they wanted. Sorry excuses for human beings, if you ask me.

But that's not why we're here.

I'm standing in her apartment, waiting on her to finish gabbing on the phone with her current boyfriend. I hate when people talk on the phone with others around. So what if conversation is lax; it's better to sit in complete silence than exclude company for the sake of excessive talking. But that's just me.

She giggles, kind of scrunching up when she lets out the noise, and it makes me cringe. I'm sure it was some half-assed joke from the stoner on the other line. I bet he doesn't even think about his jokes; I bet he thinks his are funny no matter what. Of course, if Casey's dating someone, he could say "A monkey just pooped in your lap" and she would crack up. I understand, I guess. She has to pump up his ego. But _damn_! After so long it just gets irritating. That's probably why her relationships never last long. Good for me, bad for her. Finally, she finishes up the conversation (gag fest, really) and decides to acknowledge my presence.

"Hi, Derek. What's up?" She looks at me with those beautiful eyes of hers, a trace of a smile dancing across her face.

"I need to tell you something, and I need you to just listen to me, okay? No questions, no interruptions, just listen," I say. She's sitting in a computer chair, leaned back and ready to listen. I have her undivided attention. This is it. This is what I've been waiting for for over five years.

"Okay. Anything. You know I'm here for you," she answers. And it's true, too. Casey and I have become extremely close since college. We graduated from different universities, but ended up in the same city: Chicago. I don't know why, either. I came here because I landed a job in some high-tech building by pure luck. Don't get me wrong; I'm good at what I do. It's just that becoming the assistant manager of one of the most powerful businesses out there is a little hard to do. But only a little. Casey teaches dance at a prestigious School of the Arts and has written a few best-seller books on the side.

When you lump it all together like that it sounds like we'd be rich.

You'd be wrong.

The prices on everything have gone up and that means that working at a top-notch business and teaching at a renowned school barely make the cut. Plus, everyone has decided that Chicago is "the shit" and moved over here, so it's ridiculously overcrowded.

Casey and I live in the same apartment building and that's why we're so close. I realize that we could just avoid each other, but what's the point? We're both mature, grown people who happen to have things in common.

And I'm hopelessly in love with her.

It's not like I'm not a stalker or anything. Things just worked out in my favor. Neither of us wanted to stay in Canada once we graduated high school, so we both found universities in the states. We still go see the family for holidays and such, but we generally stay out of contact. That makes us sound like terrible people, doesn't it? Oh, well. You can't win everything.

I begin to pace back and forth, working the words around on my tongue. "Well, it's like this: we've known each other since we were both fifteen. That's twelve years we've known each other. And I know you have --" I was interrupted by a knock at the door. Dammit.

"Hold that thought," she says, getting up from her chair and opening the door. It's Drake.

I hate my life.

"Hey!" she greets, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "What are you doing here? I thought you weren't coming down until later on..."

"Well, I thought I'd surprise you," he replies, pulling flowers out from behind his back. Could he _be_ anymore cheesy? I mean, really, shoot for some originality here.

Casey gasps, "Oh, thank you! I'll go put them in a vase right now." Casey hates flowers. She thinks they stink up the apartment and draw too many bugs. I've heard her say it before, and there's no way in hell she's kept quiet about anything _ever_, so Drake must know. So this just proves every theory I've ever had about any of her boyfriends: he's an idiot. Casey dates idiots. She's really good at feigning gratitude, though.

"Derek," he nods.

"Drake." I stare him down. He just interrupted what could've been a monumental event for me. _And_ he's dating Casey. I hate the bastard.

Casey reenters the room and immediately senses the tension. "You know, Derek was just about to tell me something, so maybe you could wait for me downstairs and we'll go get a drink, okay?"

Drake looks at me for a second before simply replying, "Okay," and walking out the door. Casey sighs and looks at me.

"You were saying?"

You know how there are people who wait for something good to happen, for opportunity to strike? And they wait and they wait and nothing ever happens, until finally they work up the courage to _do something_. They're just like the people who wish on shooting stars and pick four-leaf clovers. Desperate and hopeless.

Well, I've never been one of those people.

"It's nothing -- don't worry about it."

...that is, until I met Casey.


	2. A Wish

**A/N: **Okay, so, I know that this took a really long time, but I've just now sat down to write it. And I know that it's ridiculously short, but I think you guys will like it. :)

Anyways, thanks for the reviews! You guys are awesome!

.!.!.Shannon.!.!.

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**Shooting Stars: A Wish**

It's been a week since I tried to tell Casey how I feel about her. She and Drake apparently got in some huge fight a couple days ago, so that's a plus. She won't tell me what happened, though; just that she was thinking of breaking up with him for it.

I had to restrain myself from jumping up and down like an idiot when she told me that.

I'm sitting down in my recliner (the one I've had for "forever and three days," as Casey puts it), watching television and letting my mind wander over to thoughts of Casey. This is normal, by the way. If I'm not with Casey, then I'm thinking about her. It's kind of sad, really, but you learn to get used to things like this.

I hear a knock at my door and tromp over, wondering who would be visiting at this time of night, before looking through the peep hole, smiling and opening the door. "Hey, Case. What's up?" I ask, stepping aside to let her in and closing the door.

She shrugs, taking off her jacket and hanging it on the coat rack. "Oh, nothing."

I raise my eyebrow, doubtful of this. It's never "nothing" with Casey. So, when she says this, I know something's up. "Riight. 'Cause that's believable."

She shoots me a withering look, walking farther into my apartment and plopping down on the couch, making herself at home. This is the way we are with each other now. Our fights aren't really fights anymore; actually... come to think of it, the only thing we ever _really_ fight about anymore is when one or the other of us gets into a relationship. Which makes sense on my part, I guess, but not hers. I refuse to get my hopes up, though, so I don't even go there.

She huffs, "Drake and I broke up. It wasn't pretty."

Holding in my growing bubble of excitement, I sit down next to her and begin to play the role I had played for the past couple years: consoling best friend.

God, this sucks. I'm stuck in the Friend Zone.

Kill me now, please.

"Well..." I encourage, not really knowing what to say, even though we've done this dozens of times. Not that Casey is a serial dater or anything, she just... can't seem to keep a toe-hold on her relationships.

She looks at me, and I can't quite decipher the expression on her face. "He dumped me."

Now, this... No, this, I don't believe. "You serious?" _Why_ would _anyone_ break up with Casey? Sure, I mean, she can be kind of a control freak and overly dramatic sometimes, but that's what makes her who she is. That's why I love her.

Her head falls back on the couch, eyes closed. "Yeah. He said... he said that..." she trails off, wringing her hands in her lap.

I inch closer to her, anxious to hear what she has to say. "What, Casey? What did he say?" Is it just me, or did I just see a shooting star go by my window?

She lifts her head back up and stares at me, her eyes wide and nervous. "He said that I need to come to terms with how I feel about you before I can ever be in a relationship." She says this all in one breath, and it takes a minute before it finally sinks in.

"What feelings?" I gulp, silently wishing on that star.

"These," she breathes, leaning forward and capturing my lips with hers. At first, I'm too shocked to do anything, but I finally come to my senses and begin to respond.

We pull apart, breathless, and her hands are all in my hair and mine are resting on her hips. "Casey... I had no idea that you..." I can't finish it – I'm too giddy. And slightly confused. But more giddy than anything.

"Yeah. I didn't know that you did, either." She's smiling widely at me, and I can't help but notice that I've been smiling since she told me he broke up with her. "So... what now?" she asks.

"This now," I reply, and pull her back into a kiss.

Maybe wishing on shooting stars isn't so bad, after all.


End file.
